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misadventures in manhattan

There’s Something About Teddy – Part 1

Somehow my life has turned into a 1990’s rom-com (or is it romcom?) In any case, we’re right at the part where the heroine still has no furniture, and is feeling like she needs to make a major change in her life, hang up the gloves, or some other metaphor that involves brooding. That’s where Teddy comes in.

Our stuff arrived the other day. Now, there is a colossal mountain of boxes in the living room. I feel like a sherpa.

Tenzing Norgay – Professional Sherpa

Doesn’t Tenzing have amazing teeth? And all without the benefit of Crest White Strips (or toothbrushes).

Most moves are beyond awful… your broken dirty stuff is held hostage in the street until you hand over $2k in small bills. The whole thing goes down like a drug deal. Part of you feels like a bad ass for having such a substantial wad of twenties in your pocket. The other part is just desperate to see your shoes again (and give them a big hug).

So, I’m waiting on my stoop, ready to hand over the ransom when the movers pull up. And this is what I expect to see:

Instead, in big block letters, the truck reads “SERENITY MOVERS” My mind reels… I think to myself “Ok, this is either going to be a) very ironic… b) or just plain awesome.”

“Please,” I pray to the universe, “Can I have b? b would be so nice after the St. Tropez debacle…”

“No,” says the universe, “You can have a. Irony’s your life lesson and don’t you forget it young-ish lady.”

“But, b is so…”

“Don’t interrupt. a is what you’re getting. Game over, case closed, zip up your fly.”

I glower. This whole cosmic tough love thing is getting me down. Then something so unexpected happens. A gigantic black man who looks undeniably like Santa–except black–climbs out of the truck. A dead ringer.